


sundays

by thepsychicclam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, and stiles loves it, because of tyler hoechlin's stupid grandpa sweater, derek wears a sweater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunday’s are always the same: Derek wakes up and cooks breakfast, and Stiles tries to continue sleeping because no one should be up that early on a Sunday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sundays

Sunday’s are always the same: Derek wakes up and cooks breakfast, and Stiles tries to continue sleeping because no one should be up that early on a Sunday, and he definitely yells that from where he’s buried in the cocoon of bedclothes. Derek laughs and Stiles rolls onto Derek’s side of the bed, still warm and smelling like him. He drifts back off until the irresistible smell of bacon and the thought of kissing Derek is just too strong. But it’s still way too early.

Derek’s standing at the stove, barefoot and wearing low hanging cotton pants and what Stiles calls his Grandpa Sweater, an old worn thing with holes along the hem and cuffs that cover his knuckles. Derek loves that sweater, but Stiles is pretty sure Derek doesn’t love it as much he does. Stiles kisses Derek sleepily when Derek hands him the plate, and he pads over to the couch and drops onto it, and they eat breakfast and channel surf. 

When they’re done, Stiles stretches out on the couch while Derek fixes himself a cup of coffee, and he grabs the book lying open face down on the kitchen table. He leans against the counter, lost in his book as he sips from his mug, and Stiles dozes on the couch. Derek meanders around the loft, book in one hand, cup in the other, until he sits on the other end of the couch without ever looking up from the page. 

Stiles shifts and props his feet in Derek’s lap, Derek automatically lifting his arms so Stiles can fit them comfortably. Derek covers Stiles’ cold feet with his arms, and Stiles starts telling Derek what he dreamed the night before. Derek lowers the book momentarily, listens as he sips his coffee, his fingers absently stroking over the bones of Stiles’ ankles, and after Stiles runs out of actual dreams, he makes up weirder and weirder ones until Derek calls his bluff and rolls his eyes. Then, Stiles finds a movie and dozes back off while Derek returns to his book, and when he wakes up two hours later, Derek hasn’t moved.

Stiles starts talking, and Derek lowers the book for a moment, scratches his chin and smiles and rubs his eyes as he nods at whatever Stiles is saying, and then he raises the book back to his face. Stiles plays video games until he’s bored. Then, he turns off the TV and crawls into Derek’s lap because it’s Sunday and in addition to not getting dressed and napping, lazy sex is a requirement – at least in Stiles’ mind. Derek’s eyes lift slowly over the rim of the book, an eyebrow carefully raised, and Stiles grins as he easily pulls the book from Derek’s grasp and tosses it onto the floor behind him. Derek sighs in frustration, and Stiles leans forward to kiss his stubbled jaw, his long fingers curling into the soft grey sweater as Derek turns his mouth and catches Stiles’ lips.


End file.
